


Track Season

by qwartooty



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff, I AM TALKING MAJOR FLUFF OKAY, LOTS of eren worship in this one because i can't help it, M/M, Sexual Tension, Sports, Track and Field
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:00:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwartooty/pseuds/qwartooty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Levi would hate his job as an athletic trainer if it wasn't for a certain pole vaulter visiting him every day. Unfortunately, Eren is still in high school... but damn that track uniform makes it hard to say no.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The snow is finally melting. The days are getting longer, and the thin, frigid air of winter is slowly being replaced by the sounds of birds chirping and the smell of wet bark.

It’s Eren’s favorite time of year again- _track season_.

For a high schooler, track season means spending hours after class on the windy track, running and stretching and throwing and jumping.

It means getting reacquainted with the collective scent of dirt and sweat, feeling the sunshine on your winter-paled skin, sprinting through light drizzles, forming deep bonds with your teammates, finding you trust your coaches more than your parents, hearing your name cheered by people you barely know, pushing yourself beyond what you thought you could do, and most importantly-

_Feeling alive._

Eren grins as he grips his striped pole, the spikes on his shoes ripping into the runway as he charges the pit. His arms extend out in front of him, and he plants the pole in the box, pushing off with his left foot and swinging both his legs above his head, throwing his hips higher until he’s nearly parallel with the pole.

‘Nearly,’ because Eren hasn’t quite perfected his technique, and even as he turns upside-down he can see the disapproving way Coach Smith is eyeing his pelvis.

With one last grunt, Eren completes his turn and pushes himself up and away from the pole.

This is the moment Eren feels most alive- after he pushes off the pole and flies on his own, up and away, passing over the horizontal bar and tipping right side-up again, his head tilting back and his eyes locked on the sky, before gravity starts pulling him down.

He clears the bar, and then his body keeps tipping backward until his back lands on the pit.

The big red pit lets out a _floof_ on impact, and Eren lies there for a moment with his arms over his head, staring at the bar still balancing nine feet above him, bold and yellow against the blue sky. He takes a breath and then puffs out his cheeks, blowing air up at it triumphantly. The yellow bar doesn’t move, staying steady as clouds spin dizzily above it.

“You dead or something?” Ymir calls out impatiently. Eren lifts his head and sees Historia holding her purple pole on the runway, waiting for Eren to move so she can vault. Ymir is next in the line of other vaulters waiting on the grass, her freckled arm wrapped around her own pole as she leans against it lazily.

“Sorry,” Eren grins, tightening his abs and pulling himself up to his feet. Maneuvering out of the squishy pit can be a struggle, but after three years of experience Eren has no trouble finding his way to the side, and he jumps down onto the grass.

Coach Smith, who caught Eren’s pole as it fell back toward the runway, is waiting for him on the ground. He holds out Eren’s pole with a frown.

“I know, I know,” Eren grabs it as he walks past. “I didn’t get vertical.”

“You’re still bending at the waist,” the coach comments, keeping his blue eyes on Historia as she starts to run. “Focus on thrusting your hips forward. You’ll know when you do it right; it will feel different.”

Eren nods and takes his pole to the end of the line. He hears the clang of the bar falling behind him.

“Shit,” Historia curses, rubbing her head in pain.

“What have I said about swearing on this team?” Coach Smith says sharply, making sure the rest of the vaulters are listening.

“Sorry,” Historia mumbles, ducking her blond head.

“You know the rules,” their coach points at the track. “One pole lap every time you swear.”

Historia looks at the track and pales. She crawls off the pit, taking her pole from Coach Smith and making her way around the jumpers’ sand pits. Coach Jinn, who’s in charge of the jumpers, holds back one of his athletes to let Historia pass. He and the jumper both shoot her a sympathetic look.

None of the other coaches have rules against cursing. Then again, none of the other athletes have as foul of mouths as the pole vaulters.

As Coach Smith sets the bar back up, Ymir shouts after Historia. “Give those bitch-ass sprinters hell for me, girl!”

Historia turns around with wide eyes, nearly knocking Connie in the head with her pole just as he’s lining up for triple jump.

“Ymir!” Coach Smith shouts from the pit. “That’s two- _three_ pole laps for you!”

Ymir grins. “You got it, coach!” she says, running off with her pole to join Historia. The two of them reach the 400-meter track and begin jogging with their poles held high, while Coach Zoe yells at the sprinters and hurdlers to make way.

As the short line of remaining vaulters moves forward, Eren feels the wind pick up, rustling the grass so it tickles his ankles and toned calves. His fitted stretchy tank top stays snug around his chest and abdomen, but the wind chills the sweat on his bare biceps and thighs, billowing his breezy running shorts up around his hips. He closes his eyes and tries to imagine his hips thrusting up over his head, until his body stretches out upside-down, springing him higher than ever before.

He opens his eyes and tries to clear his mind of any thoughts of failure. The wind rattles the chain link fence behind him, but he drowns out the sound, stepping onto the runway when it’s his turn to vault. His spikes grip reassuringly into the ground as he holds his pole by his waist, bracing for his run, and Coach Smith nods at him from the end of the runway.

Eren takes a deep breath and lets it out, tightening his grip on the pole.

 _Hips up_ , he thinks, and he starts running.

*** *** ***

“Try reaching back, like you would if you were combing your hair,” Levi instructs. “Tell me if you feel any pain.”

The large sweaty shot putter currently sitting on the metal table does as he’s told, even going so far as to comb his fingers through his thick blond hair. The florescent lights hum amongst the low ceiling tiles above them, providing a harsh lighting to the white and windowless room. A metal bathtub glints beside a spotless sink in one corner, and the walls are lined with cabinets full of medical supplies, shelves supporting small weights, hooks holding therapy bands and rubber ropes, and other physical therapy equipment. Next to the only door are a small chair and a desk with a clipboard on it, for student athletes to check in whenever they make a visit.

The shot putter lowers his hand from his hair to rub the side of his neck. “No, that felt fine. It’s only my neck that hurts when I turn to throw,” he slaps his hand against his neck for emphasis, and then winces. “Here.”

Levi steps away, relieved. “Good, that means you didn’t injure your rotator cuff. It’s most likely a pulled muscle, which isn’t a big deal, but no more practice for you tonight.”

The shot-putter straightens rigidly. “But coach said-”

“I’ll talk to Mike,” Levi interrupts, picturing the tall throwing coach. “If you want to throw in the meet tomorrow, I suggest resting your neck as much as possible. Ice it for twenty minutes, then wait another twenty minutes and repeat the icing until you go to bed.”

Levi walks around the only other metal table and opens the freezer beside it, pulling out a ready-made bag of ice. The shot-putter accepts the ice and grimly thanks Levi, before taking a piece of candy from a small bowl next to the clipboard and leaving.

As soon as he’s gone, Levi grabs a bottle of cleaner and some paper towel he keeps under the sink and gets to work disinfecting the metal table. The stinging smell of teenage sweat hangs about the spot, and Levi sprays a bit of cleaner in the air and then wipes down the table once more.

For high schoolers, track season means excitement and fun. For Levi, track season used to mean spending hours in vain trying to make sweaty and rude teenagers stop moaning and groaning about injuries that were completely their own faults. Between his classes at the university, his internship at the hospital, and nights of endless research, Levi originally viewed his time working as this high school’s athletic trainer to be a complete waste of time.

Now, however, Levi almost _enjoys_ it. It’s relaxing to fix problems, to have control over this tiny room, to have a place he can find a bit of peace and quiet for a few hours out of his busy schedule. When it’s full of athletes taking ice baths and doing their pre- and post-practice therapy, however, it can get a little hectic. Still, there are upsides to this job- one of them being the limitless cleaning supplies the school provides.

But the _real_ upside started three years ago.

Levi stops scrubbing and glares down at his reflection on the table, hating the way his heart picks up speed simply by _thinking_ about him.

Him. _A high schooler_.

Levi wants to spray himself in the eye, but refrains and returns the cleaner to its rightful place.

Trying to keep himself distracted, Levi looks around the room for something to do, only to have his eyes land on the small bowl of candy on his desk.

His heart flutters.

“Christ,” he mutters, feeling absolutely ridiculous. He mentally berates his heart for its inappropriate behavior and refills the candy dish quickly, making sure there are plenty of caramels.

He feels sillier by the second, and he quickly slams the desk drawer where he keeps the extra candy shut. He doesn’t even like sweets, let alone _caramels_. The only reason he got the candy bowl in the first place was because-

“Levi!”

Levi jumps in his seat, slamming his knee under the desk.

Eren smiles sheepishly down at him as he steps in sideways through the door. He’s hiding his hands behind his back, which causes the fabric of his forest green sleeveless shirt to stretch taught over his defined pectoral muscles.

Levi closes his mouth before any drool can escape, forcing his eyes up to meet Eren’s vivid ones.

“Eren,” Levi says hoarsely, and then he clears his throat as subtly as possible. Shouldn’t the acidity of his stomach fluids be enough to quell the butterflies flapping away down there?

“Hello,” Eren’s smile remains sheepish as he steps closer. “I uh, need a Band-Aid, please.”

Levi stands up quickly, his chair clattering loudly behind him.

“What did you do this time?” Levi asks, realizing there must be a reason Eren is hiding his hands. “Let me see.”

Eren takes a step back. “It really isn’t that bad. I just… grabbed onto one of the standards in the middle of my vault.”

A few droplets of blood patter softly onto the linoleum floor behind Eren, and Levi stalks around the desk and holds a hand out demandingly.

“Let me see.”

Eren sighs and brings his right hand out to meet Levi’s. Levi gently grasps Eren’s forearm, trying hard not to get distracted by the deep bruise near his elbow that many young vaulters get from slamming against their poles in mid-air. He turns Eren’s arm so his palm is facing up, and he sucks in a breath when he sees a bloody gash running from Eren’s wrist to the long crease beneath his middle finger.

“A few centimeters to the right and you’d have bled to death,” Levi snaps, letting go of his gentle grip and leading Eren over to the metal tables. “You said you grabbed onto a standard? How did that happen?”

The standards are a pair of tall metal contraptions on either side of the pit, and the yellow bar balances across the tops of them. To fall close enough to one of those and grab it would mean Eren tipped completely sideways instead of forward, something an athlete in his junior year- no, _senior_ year now, Levi thought with a grimace- shouldn’t be doing.

Eren hops up onto the table and, to Levi’s surprise, laughs enthusiastically as he holds his bleeding hand out in front of him.

“I flipped all the way upside-down!” he exclaims, eyes shining and legs swinging as he tells Levi about it. “I got my hips up and it was like everything just _clicked_ , you know? Coach was right, it _did_ feel different than usual. But it felt so weird that I kind of panicked mid-air.”

Levi turns away from the blinding happiness on Eren’s flushed face and digs needlessly slow through a cabinet full of Neosporin, gauze, and tape, trying to slow his heart back to a healthy rhythm. Behind him, Eren continues to talk, unaware of the effect he is having on the athletic trainer.

“But once I was up there, I felt so high and almost _too_ upside-down, like I was gonna start falling the wrong way. So I wobbled and the pole twisted funny, and instead of riding it down like I’m supposed to, I just sorta… let go.”

When Levi finally turns around, Eren’s sheepish smile is back.

“So you cut your hand coming down?” Levi asks, avoiding Eren’s sparkling gaze. “We should take a look at your wrist while you’re here, just to make sure none of the tendons are damaged.”

Even as he says it, Levi knows it’s useless to check Eren for injuries. Despite the coach sending Eren to see Levi multiple times a week for things like this, Eren almost never comes out with a serious injury. He’s reckless of course, but he’s also tough as nails. At first Levi thought he was just lucky, but this kid legitimately never ends up with anything worse than a bloody cut or a nasty bruise. His energy and valor might play a role as well, since even in dangerous situations Eren seems to know how to react on instinct- like catching himself on a standard instead of falling down onto it, for instance.

But Levi never complains about Eren’s frequent visits, and neither does Eren. They've come to enjoy each other’s company, even to the point where Levi would prefer Eren’s bubbling presence over the peace and quiet he values so dearly. And Eren seems to feel the same- on the days Eren doesn’t get injured, he makes sure to stop by Levi’s room after practice, helping him clean up and even walking out to his car with him…

Levi coughs unnaturally when he remembers how Eren smiled all the way to Levi’s car the week before, only to retrace his steps back to the school to unlock his bike and peddle off. It was embarrassing and unnecessary, and yet Levi felt those damn butterflies in his stomach again.

 _He’s a high schooler_ , Levi reminds himself.

“So, you're a senior now, huh,” Levi tries to make conversation as he begins wiping Eren’s wound with a sanitary wipe. He’s happy to see the cut isn’t too deep. It should stop bleeding in a couple minutes, and Levi presses a square of gauze down onto Eren’s warm palm to help slow the blood.

When Eren doesn’t answer, Levi glances up and is startled to find Eren staring at his face.

“What?” Levi asks, his hands tensing around Eren’s.

“Oh, uh.” Eren looks away. “Yeah. This is my last year,” he answers bitterly.

“Hm,” Levi decides not to push the subject. He replaces the gauze with a fresh square as soon as the blood slows, and runs a piece of medical tape over it as a makeshift Band-Aid. He throws the used gauze and wipes away and washes his hands at the sink, then comes back and holds his hand out for Eren’s once more.

“Tell me if any of this hurts,” Levi says, feeling extremely self-conscious when he notices Eren’s eyes on him again. He focuses on Eren’s wounded hand and starts massaging the knuckles.

Eren sucks in a breath, and Levi stops.

“Ah, no,” Eren mumbles above him. “That doesn’t hurt.”

“You sure?” Levi peaks up at him dubiously.

“Yeah-”

Their eyes catch for a second, but Eren hastily looks up at the ceiling while Levi bends down quickly for a closer look at Eren’s hand. He rubs the rest of the knuckles, listening carefully for any more hints of pain.

“Okay, that looks fine,” Levi announces, moving onto the wrist. “Face your palm up, like that. Good. Now tell me if you feel anything strange.”

Eren shifts, rubbing his thighs together minutely. “What do you mean by strange?”

Levi’s focus slips past the wrist and locks onto those thighs. Eren’s shorts are bunched up over the top so that his skin is resting directly on the cold table. Slight goose bumps ghost over his tanned legs, and Levi can smell the earth and sweat from Eren’s body.

This time, however, he doesn’t mind the smell.

“Uh,” Levi licks his lips, his mouth going dry. “Just let me know if your wrist hurts or feels stiff, anything like that.”

“Okay,” Eren says eagerly.

Levi bends his wrist back and forth slowly, turning the hand around and repeating the movements. He slides his fingers a bit higher, pressing Eren’s forearms and feeling the strong ulnarus and radialis muscles there.

 _Beautiful_ , he thinks, tightening his jaw as his eyes drift higher to those bulging biceps and triceps.

“That feels a bit tight,” Eren says when Levi’s fingers press harder against his upper forearm.

“If it’s right here, then tight is good,” Levi tells him, pressing the spot. “It means you didn’t pull anything. A bit of stretching will take care of that.”

“Oh.” The disappointment in Eren’s voice stops Levi from pulling away. Eren furrows his eyebrows in thought. “When I caught myself on the standard, my muscles up here kind of hurt… Could you take a look? Just in case?”

Levi follows Eren’s pointing finger, which leads him straight to Eren’s bicep.

 _Thank you god_ , Levi thinks, glancing up at the ceiling in salute before stepping closer and carefully touching Eren’s flexed arm.

A rush of voices boom through the doorway, and both Eren and Levi spring apart. Levi’s lower back knocks into the other metal table, and he hisses in pain, clutching the base of his spine ruefully. Eren nearly topples off the opposite side of the table he was sitting on, but he somehow lands on his feet, though he looks absolutely mortified.

A group of long distance runners floods in, lead by their captain, Mikasa.

“Ah, that time already?” Levi asks, glancing at the clock on the wall. It’s nearly 5 o’clock- time for the distance team’s post-practice recovery. “I’ll get the ice bath ready.”

As Levi goes to turn on the tap and haul out bags of ice from the freezer, Eren tries to edge around the room unnoticed.

“Help him with the ice,” Mikasa tells her girls, before stepping away from the group and intercepting Eren at the door.

“Oh! Hey Mikasa,” Eren says, trying and failing to sound nonchalant.

“You’re injured again?” Mikasa asks, concerned.

“Oh, no no, just a scratch,” Eren laughs nervously, holding up his bandaged hand.

At first Mikasa looks relieved, but then a perceptive glint lights up in her eyes.

“Oh, so _that’s_ why you were having him feel your biceps,” she nods in mock understanding. “A cut on your palm.”

“Please shut up,” Eren hisses, darting out through the door before his face can get any redder.

Mikasa sticks her head out into the hallway and calls after him, “I hope all those winter months of lifting weights paid off!”

“They would have if you hadn’t _interrupted_ ,” Eren shouts back, flushed and annoyed, and he disappears around a corner.

Mikasa sighs and turns back to rejoin her teammates with a small smile. To her amusement, Levi is just inside the doorway, eyeing the untouched candy bowl with a frown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't wait to write the next part because I personally feel like this part is VERY UNSATISFYING.
> 
> Expect A LOT MORE EREN WORSHIP AND SEXUAL TENSION NEXT TIME!
> 
> P.S. I tend to forget AO3 exists, so I post almost all of my fics on tumblr. You can find me at qwartney.tumblr.com.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

The morning sun is already baking the rust-colored track, sending up wafts of warm rubber and fresh sweat. The sounds of starting blocks being set up and coaches shouting orders mix in with the steady breathing and footsteps of athletes running past. The constant noise of shuffling feet and excited chatter coming from the crowded bleachers in the background is interrupted every so often by the muffled voice of an announcer over the loud speakers, listing off the order of events and reminding everyone of the large digital clock counting down the seconds left to warm-up.

Levi rests his forearms on top of the short chain link fence in front of him, his pale hands dangling off the other side. Behind him, the pole vault pit stands ready to be used, and a few volunteers smooth out the sandpits with large metal rakes.

The air is hot and sticky, even for June, and Levi has his neatly pressed sleeves rolled up past his elbows. He’s thinking about ripping the lanyard off his neck as a bead of sweat rolls down his nape, but the I.D. it holds is too important to risk misplacing.

Unaccustomed to being outside at this time of day, Levi has to squint his eyes to scan the various teams warming up on the field, their different colored uniforms dotting the trimmed grass and the track surrounding around it. Levi spots the familiar cluster of green and white uniforms on the far side of the track, making out Eren’s tight calves even this far away.

“How’s everyone looking?” a cheerful voice calls out.

Levi looks over and sees the head coach walking toward him, his pristine white running shoes stepping assuredly along the track on the other side of the low fence. A whistle bounces lightly against the zipper on his green track jacket, and he holds a clipboard in one hand, while his other clicks a pen excitedly. The sunlight glares blaringly off the coach’s baldhead, and Levi quickly diverts his gaze back toward the athletes to prevent going blind.

“I taped up your star hurdler’s shin splints the best I could, but I doubt she’ll qualify for the state meet in that condition,” Levi tells Dot Pixis bluntly. “In my opinion, she shouldn’t even be competing.”

“I can’t just pull our best hurdler out of the state meet prelims,” Coach Pixis chuckles. “Sasha’s tough, and she’s a senior. She won’t slow down with all the scouts watching her just because of some pain.”

Levi doesn’t respond, knowing it’s futile to argue with these competitive sorts. The moving cluster of green and white uniforms rounds the curve as the athletes slow down a few meters away from where Levi and Pixis stand. There aren’t as many athletes competing as usual, since only those who qualify can attend the state meet prelims. The ones who place in the top of each event today will move onto state, which is a big deal for those hoping to get scouted by universities.

Levi wonders how big of a deal this meet is to Eren. Obviously he loves pole vaulting, but does he want to do it in college? Sure, Eren is competitive, but he’s never mentioned anything about continuing this sport in the future.

He’s never mentioned _anything_ about his future, Levi reminds himself grimly. Eren always avoids the subject, and Levi never pushes it. As a result, he doesn’t know anything about Eren’s hopes and dreams.

The only thing Levi knows for sure is that after this season is over, Eren will be gone.

“Alright, everyone get in a circle!” Sasha begins leading the stretches on the grass, and the other athletes follow her instructions.

Jean, the captain of the boy’s distance team, splits off from the group to continue his longer warm-up run. A freckled teammate follows him, being the only other male distance runner to qualify this far.

Mikasa and a dozen of her long distance girls do the same, laughing and easily overtaking the two boys as they leave the sprinters and the field athletes to their stretching.

“I’ve never had this many athletes qualify for the prelims,” Dot Pixis says to Levi, too cheerful to notice the aura of melancholy now hovering around the athletic trainer. Pixis scans his team in satisfaction until a muffled announcement crackles over the crowd, and he looks at his watch in shock. “Woops, time to check in. You’re all set up, right?”

Levi grunts in affirmation, keeping his eyes on the team. “All the prep work is done. I’ll be doing rounds during the competition, but I’ve got my pager in case there are any emergencies.”

The head coach nods and hurries off toward the white tents next to the bleachers. All the other teams’ coaches are gathering there as well for last-minute sign-ins and participation confirmations. A couple athletic trainers and interns nod to Levi as they pass by, and soon Levi grows bored, his eyes drifting back over to watch the progress of the warm-ups.

It’s hard to tell for sure from where he stands, but the tape wound tight around Sasha’s shins and calves appears to be holding nicely, and so far Levi can’t see any signs of discomfort in her movements.

“Quad stretch!” Shasha instructs loudly, balancing on one leg and bending the other at the knee. She reaches back to grab her shoe, pulling it until it reaches her rear end. They hold the position for ten seconds, and then switch to the other leg. Eren wobbles as he nearly loses his balance on his left foot, but Levi doesn’t get to see his no-doubt endearing expression since he’s facing away into the circle. He sighs to himself dramatically.

“Alright, arms and shoulders!”

The athletes all stand with both feet on the ground and lift their arms over their heads. Eren reaches his bent arms toward the sky, grabbing his left elbow with his right hand and gently pulling.

Levi’s drooping eyes widen considerably when the tight green tank of Eren’s track uniform rides up, revealing the tan smooth skin of his lower back. Eren radjusts his grip, and his back muscles between his shoulder blades squeeze together, flexing and relaxing as he breathes.

Sasha calls out in the background to switch, and Eren’s muscles slide under his skin as he grabs his other elbow and pulls. The hand that isn’t holding onto his elbow clenches and then spreads in the air, and Levi tries not to blink when Eren’s radialus muscles in his forearms tighten and bulge, his long, bandaged fingers playing with the breeze, his biceps flexing against his ear until he finally drops his hand and moves onto the next stretch.

“Your mouth is open,” an amused voice clips through Levi’s thoughts, and Mikasa jogs in between him and his view of Eren. She points to her own smirk for emphasis without slowing down, running past him without another look back. Levi snaps his mouth shut guiltily when the distance girls following Mikasa start snickering.

“How can they laugh and run like that?” the freckled distance boy pants as he and Jean pass by as well. “It’s hard enough to talk.”

Levi makes a mental note to check him for asthma later. Knowing it’s dangerous to stay where he is, he turns to retreat but then freezes when Eren bends down and touches his toes.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Levi breathes, locked in place by the slow swaying of Eren’s hips. As the vaulter reaches down farther, his sculpted cheeks push against the green fabric of his shorts.

Levi swallows dryly, because those shorts are sinfully short, the hems only reaching a few inches below the final fold of the buttocks. The only thing saving Levi from instantaneous damnation is the pair of black spandex Eren wears underneath the shorts, but even those stop at the midpoint of his muscular thighs.

As Levi makes another attempt to move away, Eren shifts again, bringing his legs slightly apart and peaking upside-down through them.

Those glittering green eyes lock onto Levi’s before looking away again, but Levi catches the obvious grin of triumph as Eren unfolds and then drops to his butt to the ground, stretching his spread legs out and reaching his hands forward into the middle of the circle.

Levi begins to move subconsciously, slowly walking the length of the fence to try and get a peak of the space between Eren’s legs.

Eren sees this and tries not to smile, shifting his attention back to Sasha as she counts out the stretch.

“Eight, nine, ten. Alright,” she says, pulling back. “Now stretch out anything that’s still bothering you, and we’ll break up into our events.”

This is what Eren has been waiting for. He lies on his back, reaching his hands behind his head and planting his feet in the grass. With a small grunt, he pushes himself up into a bridge pose, keeping his knees apart, arching his spine, and throwing his head back so his neck is exposed.

Upside-down, he sees Levi’s mouth drop open.

“Less seduction, more stretching,” Connie shouts, and he slingshots a sweatband at him from across the circle.

Eren covers his embarrassment with a laugh. He tightens his abs and lifts his feet off the ground with ease, his bandaged fingers digging past the blades of grass and into the dirt as he executes a perfect handstand.

Ymir sees this and her eyes light up. “First one to fall buys food at the concession stand,” she challenges, tipping forward into a handstand beside Eren.

Eren grins at her. “Did you bring enough money to buy me a dozen burgers?”

“Burgers?” Sasha eagerly plants her hands on the ground to join the competition, but the other sprinters let out exclamations of panic and grab her legs just as they swing up.

“Aw come on, let her try,” Ymir grins mischievously.

Reiner frowns at them all as he stretches his right arm across his chest. “No offense, Sasha, but you’ll probably break your neck.”

“Pole vaulters get to have all the fun,” Sasha complains as the sprinters return their captain to her upright position.

“It’s not as fun as it looks,” Eren assures her, already seeing spots.

Reiner gives Sasha one more look of warning before heading over to the shot-put area. The rest of the team disperses as well, leaving the two vaulters teetering on the field.

“Ymir, Eren, quit fooling around!” Coach Smith shouts over the fence. Startled, Eren loses his balance and topples into Ymir.

“Ha!” Ymir throws a triumphant fist into Eren’s stomach, successfully getting him to roll off of her. “You owe me two dozen burgers!”

“Even you can’t eat that many,” Eren argues, rubbing his stomach.

“Twelve for me, twelve for Historia,” Ymir explains happily, getting to her feet and cupping her hands around her mouth. “Babe!” she shouts at the bleachers, getting Historia’s attention as well half the crowd’s. “Don’t eat yet cuz this clumsy ass is gonna buy us some shitty burgers from that janky-ass concession stand!”

Historia puts her face in her hands, while Erwin stands by the fence and counts the swear words off on his fingers.

As they make their way to the pole vaulting pit where the other teams’ female vaulters are already warming up, Eren notices Levi’s sudden absence. He looks around anxiously, and then glances up at the large digital clock.

 _At least the girls are vaulting first_ , he thinks, hoping that Levi will come back to watch him like he usually does. He always vaults better when he has someone to impress.

*** *** ***

Levi splashes water over his face and gasps at its coldness. He coughs and looks up at his reflection in the bathroom’s splotchy mirror, hating the way the dim lights make his skin look green.

The bathroom behind the concession stand is small and dingy, and it smells strongly of metallic rust. The concrete walls keep out the heat, at least, and Levi sighs as he feels himself calming down.

Riled up by a high schooler when he’s supposed to be working. Levi rubs his face with a scratchy paper towel, shamefully realizing he’s gotten rather used to being aroused on the job. Of course, it only happens with Eren.

This season of track has been more brutal on Levi’s waning will power than all three previous seasons combined. On the very first day of practice, for instance, Eren showed up in the training room looking as if he gained at least twenty pounds of muscle weight alone. Along with those muscles came an extra two inches of height and an unexpected increase in confidence, and Levi could barely sputter his well-rehearsed “long time no see” without fear of the police bursting in and dragging him off to pervert jail where he belongs.

The most frustrating thing about the entire situation is that no matter how much time they spend together, Levi can never guess what Eren is actually thinking. Once in a while, Eren will say something that indicates he is more aware of Levi’s feelings than he lets on. Worse still is when he _does_ something that can’t possibly be unintentional- like the time he practically dry humped Levi’s car during the track team’s car wash fundraiser, pushing himself against the windows, arching his back and letting the suds run down his legs- and then he continues treating Levi like nothing ever happened.

It would be so much easier if Levi could blame these events on the hormonal ups and downs of puberty, but it’s obvious that Eren is well past his pubescent years. If anything, he’s more matured than Levi will ever be.

But mature or not, there is no way Eren is hoping for anything deeper with Levi. None of this is intentional flirtation, and even if it is, there’s no point, because the track season is almost over. Eren’s a senior, so after this, he’ll be gone and Levi will go back to hating his job.

Levi winces when he steps out into the harsh sunlight. As he walks past the concession stand, the smell of burgers and hotdogs on the grill makes his stomach grumble.

How long has it been since he last ate? He stops by the medical tent and retrieves his backpack from the far corner, digging through it for a protein bar. The sound of a gun goes off, and people start cheering.

The meet started already? How long was he in the bathroom?

His hand closes around a few lose pieces of something at the bottom of the bag. He pulls them out and realizes with self-loathing that they're caramels.

Without a second thought, Levi slings his backpack around his shoulder and leaves the tent, eager to find something to distract him. He shows his I.D. to the man at the gate and moves into the track area, eyes scanning for the green and white uniforms of his athletes.

Maybe someone has a scraped knee to bandage. Maybe someone needs an ice pack to cool off.

Eren’s callused fingers flash to his mind.

 _Not him_ , Levi thinks. _I’m done with him_.

Just like Eren will be done with high school. And then what? Why hasn’t Levi ever breeched that subject?

Night after night, Eren always helps prep for the next day’s practice despite Levi’s insistence that he go home. And night after night, Eren demands on staying with Levi, filling up ice bags and winding up therapy bands and talking about everything _except_ his inevitable graduation.

And Levi never pushes the subject on him for the selfish reason of pretending it isn’t going to happen. But it _is_ going to happen, and Levi doesn’t even know what’s going to happen to Eren afterward because they’ve never talked about it.

Where will Eren go?

What will Eren do?

What does Eren _want_ to do?

Another gun goes off, and another wave of cheering rumbles across the bleachers. Levi is halfway to the pole vaulting pit before he realizes it, and he clenches his fist, feeling something crinkle against his skin.

He’s still holding the freaking caramels.

Eren spots Levi through a line of long jumpers waiting by the sand pits, and he waves over the crowd. Levi sees him and stops walking, staring at Eren a moment longer before turning back the way he came.

Eren drops his hand in confusion.

“Ymir’s next,” Coach Smith murmurs next to him, his eyes on her form as she lines up on the runway with her pole.

Eren takes a step backward while his coach is distracted, and as soon as Ymir starts to run, he slips away, weaving away through the athletes and officials to find where Levi went.

“Levi!” Eren yells, spotting the athletic trainer’s distinct undercut. He bumps into some of his teammates but keeps going.

“Eren?” Connie calls after him, but Eren doesn’t stop.

He starts running just as a gun goes off, and the smoke from it stings his nose as he flies past a pile of starting blocks and into another patch of grass. He sees the back of Levi’s head by a large supply shed separating the track from the shot-put area, and the spikes on his shoes rip up the dirt as he closes the distance between them.

His fingers close around the fabric of Levi’s shirt, and Levi stops walking and turns around wearily.

“What is it?”

Eren lets go, startled by the hint of annoyance in Levi’s voice. He rubs his left shoulder awkwardly, and Levi finds himself openly appreciating those arms up close, the defined curves of his sun-kissed skin dipping down where the deltoids meet the biceps and triceps.

“I was just… Are you okay?” Eren asks, eyeing him with concern.

Levi's eyes snap off to the side guiltily. “I'm fine,” he states, turning to go again.

Eren grabs Levi’s clenched fist with both of his hands. “Wait! Where are you going?”

Levi stiffens and he looks down at their connected hands in surprise, but Eren doesn’t let go in fear of Levi running off.

“I’m just doing my rounds,” Levi says tensely, trying to ignore the tingling sensation where their skin is touching. _Eren is holding my hand_. “You’re not the only athlete I’m responsible for, you know.”

The words hurt Eren more than they should. Of course he knows he isn’t the only athlete Levi looks after. He’s the team’s athletic trainer, after all.

“Hey, Eren,” Levi begins slowly.

“Y-Yes?” Eren asks, the way Levi says his name making him nervous. Levi’s hand is growing hot in his, but Eren still holds on, marveling at how smooth his skin is compared to his own.

Levi sighs, still looking off to the side. “What do you want?”

“I, uh,” Eren flushes a bit, realizing how overdramatic chasing Levi had been. Truthfully, all he wants is for Levi to watch him vault, and perhaps even wish him luck. “I was just wondering if you’re planning on watching the pole vault competition.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Levi shakes his head impatiently. “Eren, what do you want to do _after_ this?”

Eren sucks in a tiny breath, pupils dilating in excitement. Levi realizes too late what his question sounded like.

“Ah!” Levi blurts out, a little too loudly. He raises his free hand like a shield between them. “No, uh, I didn’t mean directly after this meet. I wasn’t asking you out on a- I know it sounded like I was, but I didn’t mean it that way.”

Eren’s face drops. “Oh.”

“That would be absurd,” Levi continues on hurriedly, failing to notice Eren’s obvious disappointment. “And incredibly inappropriate.”

“Inappropriate,” Eren repeats, a glint of hope in his eyes. “But not impossible.”

Levi tries to take a step back, but he’s still anchored in place by Eren’s hands. “Eren,” he practically pleads, though he keeps his voice level. “That’s not what I meant.”

Eren’s smile is absolutely impish. “What did you mean, then?”

Frustrated, Levi runs his free hand through his hair. “I know nothing about your future. What are your goals, your aspirations? Where are you going to go? I don’t even know if you’re going to keep vaulting, or if we’re ever going to see each other again.”

“Do you want to see me again?”

“I- This isn’t about what I want,” Levi frowns, determined to figure this out once and for all. “I’m asking you what you want to do, Eren. What do you want?”

Eren’s smile falters, and his grip on Levi’s hand loosens.

“Honestly, I… don’t know,” Eren admits.

“You don’t know?” Levi asks. “What about college?”

Eren shrugs. “I haven’t decided.”

“You haven’t decided,” Levi repeats, his voice clipped. “You’re graduating in a couple weeks, and you don’t know yet? Aren't there deadlines?”

“They extended it for athletes.”

“So you're going to keep pole vaulting?”

Eren makes a small helpless noise. “I don't know!”

A starting gun goes off, jolting Levi’s thoughts into place. Of course Eren doesn't know what he wants, he’s only a high schooler! He pulls his hand out of Eren’s, uncurling his fingers and releasing the caramels in the process. Eren stares at the hard candies in his hands, and then looks up at Levi in shocked revelation.

Levi doesn’t wait to find out what the expression means. He walks away before Eren can open his mouth again. People cheer on runners from the bleachers as Levi passes by, digging in his backpack and finally finding a protein bar.

All that time spent worrying about Eren’s future was pointless. If the kid can’t figure out _what_ he wants, then how’s he supposed to know _who_ he wants?

Levi rips open the protein bar and bites off the end, his eyes pricking as the sweetness hits his tongue.

Why does he keep buying caramel flavored things?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops... Turns out there will be three parts instead of two! I also apologize for the cliffhanger.
> 
> The final part is already basically written, so expect it to be posted by Friday :)
> 
> I can't thank you enough for all the feedback I've received on this, because SERIOUSLY WOW YOU ALL ARE SO AMAZING!
> 
> If you see any mistakes, don't be afraid to let me know, and I promise the next part is definitely not as angsty. You can also check out my other stories at qwartney.tumblr.com. Thanks for being awesome!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BEFORE YOU READ please look at [this unbelievably adorable fanart](http://picklestpickle.tumblr.com/post/115126653896/for-qwartney-thank-you-for-adorable-sports-ereri) by picklestpickle!!! Thank you again ahhh I'm in love!
> 
> Update: MORE FANART AND IT'S ADORABLE! Please check out [this masterpiece](http://meltyaulait.tumblr.com/post/115524607700/ahhh-ive-been-so-busy-but-i-really-wanted-to-draw) by meltyaulait!

The girls finish vaulting early in the afternoon, with Ymir coming in second and qualifying for the state meet.

Eren tries to congratulate her, but Ymir doesn't hear him as she bounces up and down on her feet, still overflowing with adrenaline and apparently looking for someone in the crowd.

“Ah!” Ymir exclaims. Eren follows her gaze and spots Historia waving on the other side of the chain link fence near the pole vault pit. Before Ymir can run off, however, Coach Smith appears and places one large hand on top of her purple helmet.

“Great job today, Ymir. You made the whole team proud.”

“Right, thanks.” Ymir tries to take a step, but the coach doesn’t let go of her helmet, causing it to slip over her right ear.

“Before you go do your cool down, let’s talk about state.”

Eren makes a face. “Ymir never does a cool down.”

Ymir silences Eren with an elbow to the side.

“The main thing we need to work on is your approach.” Coach Smith drops his hand and looks at Ymir seriously. “A little faster on the runway and you would’ve made thirteen feet today. Maybe even thirteen-three.”

Ymir unbuckles the straps around her chin and finally takes her purple helmet off, grinning as her wild hair flies free. “So you think I’ve got a chance at winning state, then?” she asks.

“We’ll see,” Coach Smith says, but his poker face slips, and Ymir lets out a loud whoop.

Despite their coach’s efforts to get Ymir to properly cool down and stretch, Ymir sneaks away as soon as his back is turned, no doubt heading off to celebrate with Historia behind the bleachers.

Eren fastens his own black helmet onto his head and pops a caramel in his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue and savoring the thought of Levi’s warm fingers wrapped around its sweetness.

This morning’s conversation had left Eren feeling both excited and apprehensive. A fresh wave of butterflies fills his gut as he remembers the smoothness of Levi’s hand between his own, or how those teeth had worried that bottom lip, or how Levi had whispered passionately, _“I don’t even know if we’ll ever see each other again.”_

Okay, so maybe those hadn’t been his exact words, and perhaps he hadn’t ‘whispered passionately,’ but Eren still relishes the memory for the singular fact that Levi’s voice had _definitely_ broken.

Eren can still hear it _,_ and he takes it like an arrow to the heart, because it sure as hell sounds like Levi wants to see Eren again.

Eren’s insides tighten warmly at the thought, because he also wants to see Levi again. And again and again, more often than he does now, all the time in fact, without the long breaks between seasons and limited hours after practice.

And maybe Levi feels the same?

An official blows a whistle, signaling to all competing vaulters that it’s time to start. Eren flips the caramel over with his tongue as he continues to turn his thoughts over in his mind.

“Starting height is eleven feet,” the official tells the vaulters gathered around the pit. While he rattles off the usual rules and warnings, Eren becomes more aware of his surroundings. He takes a look around at his competition and is glad of the extra weightlifting he’s done since last season. Although his incentive to gain muscle hadn’t exactly been chaste, the payoff is definitely helping him blend in with these giants.

Finally, the athletes are dismissed for final run-throughs and stretches. Coach Smith pulls Eren aside, and Eren hides the caramel under his tongue.

“You’re the second vaulter,” Coach Smith tells him, showing Eren the chart. Eren’s chest constricts with nerves, since the vaulting order typically starts with the worst vaulter and ends with the best.

Eren’s eyes scan the ten names listed below his. “So all these guys can jump higher than me?”

Coach Smith clasps him on the shoulder and looks him in the eye. “All this means is that they’ve jumped higher than you before. It doesn’t mean they’ll jump higher than you today.”

“Right,” Eren says, nodding once.

“Remember, hips up.”

“Hips up,” Eren repeats with a toothy grin. “Easy.”

*** *** ***

At this point in the season, getting his body completely upside-down and vertical is almost as natural to Eren as breathing. He clears 12’ with ease, as well as 12’6”. The boy who vaults before him knocks the bar down on all three attempts at 13’.

Fortunately for Eren, four more vaulters are out at 13’3”. He watches one boy try to hold back tears while his coach lectures him on a preventable mistake.

“That was lucky,” Ymir comments, reappearing and sitting down next to Eren on the grass. “If you beat one more vaulter, you’re going to state.”

“I know,” Eren breathes out in a rush of nerves, not taking his eyes off the current vaulter. “I didn’t actually think I’d make it this far.”

Ymir barks out a laugh. “Bullshit! You’re better than me, and that’s saying something.”

Eren turns to tell her she’s wrong, but sputters upon noticing a dark bruise right above the collar on her track uniform.

“Hey, you okay?” Ymir asks when she sees Eren flapping his mouth like a fish. “What are you… aw shit, she gave me a hickey again, didn't she?”

Eren continues to gape. “I… I’ve never seen one so dark,” he admits.

“Quit staring, you’re making me all self-conscious and junk,” Ymir slaps a hand over it.

“Eren Yeager on deck!” someone calls out. Eren jumps to his feet and tries to fight the blush he can feel creeping up his face.

“Are you feeling okay?” Coach Smith asks, shading his eyes with his clipboard. “You look like you’re getting heatstroke. Have you been drinking water?”

“I’m fine,” Eren mumbles, pulling down the edges of his spandex shorts. Moving images of Levi’s lips on his neck lurk in the back of his mind, and he tries thinking of something else, anything else, but then ends up thinking about what his _own_ lips might look like on _Levi’s_ neck, tasting his skin and feeling the vibrations of his moans and laughter-

“Bar goes up to 13’6”! Eren Yeager is up, Thomas Wagner’s on deck!”

Coach Smith gives Eren another concerned look when he picks up the wrong pole.

“Dead kittens, Jean’s grandma,” Eren mutters, locating his striped pole a few feet away in the grass. The bar is set up at the new height by the time Eren finds his step mark.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” his coach reminds him quietly, giving Eren one last wary look before leaving him alone on the runway.

Eren takes a deep breath and looks at the bar. All that matters in this moment is pole vaulting. He wants to feel that familiar freedom at the top, so he closes his eyes and pictures himself clearing the height. His breathing evens out, and he opens his eyes again, experiencing the familiar thrill of nerves and excitement run through his bones.

He lines up his pole and runs.

On his first attempt at 13’6”, everything feels right until Eren knocks the bar off on his way down. Eren lands with a _poof_ and lets out a disappointed grunt.

“You were over that one, but your knees knocked it off on the way down,” Coach Smith says, walking with Eren back to the middle of the runway. “You bent your legs at the last second.”

Eren nods, his green eyes shimmering with determination in the shade of his helmet.

“You got this, Eren!” a familiar voice shouts. Eren looks over sees Mikasa in the large crowd watching from the other side of the fence. The distance team is with her, and they cheer in agreement.

“Eren,” Coach Smith says, pulling back his attention. “Take a breath. You’ve cleared this height before.”

 _Only once_ , Eren thinks, but he doesn’t say anything and continues to nod.

Erwin leaves him and returns to his spot on the side for a better view, and Eren lines up on the runway at his mark, gripping his striped pole with pulsating fingers. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees something flash in the sunlight.

 _Focus_ , he tells himself, but glances over anyway when the item flashes again.

If his heart was beating quickly before, it’s nothing compared to how it pounds in his chest now. Levi stands a few feet to the side of the crowd, watching him intensely. His face subtly reflects Eren’s own nerves, his dark eyebrows pulling together and his lips set in a thin line. His I.D. badge hangs around his neck, the laminated surface reflecting the sunlight every so often.

Eren snaps his head back to look in front of him, adrenaline coursing through his system.

 _You’ve cleared this height before_ , he repeats his coach’s words in his head, this time with Levi’s face in mind to motivate him. Instead of the urges that had accompanied Levi’s image a few minutes ago, now all Eren feels is reassurance. _Show Levi there’s nothing to worry about_.

Eren can’t help but smile as he shoots forward, the air whistling through the sides of his helmet. He straightens his right arm over his head as he plants, the shock of the pole hitting the box jolting him backward as he swings up.

It feels different this time, but not in a good way. Eren knows something is wrong in the way the pole bends. It always bends, of course, but this time it keeps bending, and at the moment where the fiberglass is supposed to straighten out and sling him upwards, the growing tension in the striped pole maxes out.

A sound like a gunshot cracks through the air, sharper and louder than any of the starting pistols used for races. Eren’s momentum spins him in a reverse summersault straight for the ground, his helmet crunching against the metal box meant for planting poles.

Silence falls over the athletes and spectators. People stop mid-event and look up at the sunny sky, wondering in confusion if maybe the sound had been lightning splitting open a tree.

“Eren!” Mikasa’s hushed exclamation breaks the strained silence.

Unfamiliar hands grab at Eren’s sides, intending on pulling him up and away from the pit.

“Don’t touch him,” Levi shoves through the small cluster of people, snapping out orders. “I said don’t move him, you idiots! He could have a spinal injury, _do not move him!_ ”

Eren hasn’t moved at all on his own. Levi wonders distantly how his own hands can remain steady even as his heart rate skyrockets out of fear. People step away, allowing Levi to crawl in close to Eren, eyes darting to the ground half-expecting a pool of blood.

“Eren?” Levi asks loudly, and he can practically feel the people around him as they watch and listen with baited breath.

A second passes, and then another. Finally, Eren stirs, and Levi’s heart skips a beat as he watches Eren lift his face out of the box and turn slowly to look at Levi.

“Levi,” Eren whispers, eyes wide and terrified. “What happened?”

That expression breaks something inside Levi, and his hands start to shake despite his training. “You broke your pole. Eren, don't be afraid. I’m here, okay? It’s going to be okay. Do you feel pain? Numbness anywhere? Can you move?”

“I-I don’t know,” Eren says, unsure.

“You don't know what?”

“I don’t know if I can move.”

It feels like fingers made of ice close around Levi’s heart. “Are you saying you can’t move?”

Eren shakes his head with extreme caution. “No. I just haven't tried yet.”

Levi just stares at him, confused. “What? Why?”

“Isn’t it dangerous to try?” Eren asks, looking equally befuddled. “You told me once that if I ever get injured pole vaulting, I shouldn’t move because I might paralyze myself or something.”

The cold grip on Levi’s heart warms up a bit. “Oh… Oh, Eren, that’s only if you have a spinal injury.”

“Okay, so how do I know if I have one?” Eren asks impatiently.

Levi frowns at his tone. “Well, does your back or neck hurt?”

“No.”

“Do you feel numb or weak anywhere?”

Eren wiggles. “No.”

“Did you shit your pants?”

“What?!” Eren sits up fully, his ears growing hot under his helmet. “No!”

“Loss of bowel control,” Levi explains, relieved beyond words to see Eren sitting up on his own. His hands are steady again as he lifts them to Eren’s chin, undoing the buckle of his helmet. “I really don't think you have a spinal injury, especially since you keep wiggling around like that.”

“That’s because, um,” Eren tries to lean away but meets the incline of the squishy pit. They are both squeezed into the indent of the pit that connects to the runway, where the metal box dips into the ground and is surrounded by three mesh walls. “You’re really close to me, you know.”

“Stop squirming. I need to take your helmet off so I can check your ears for blood.”

Eren puffs out his cheeks as Levi removes the helmet, revealing ears reddened with embarrassment beneath a sweaty mess of helmet hair.

“Red, but no blood,” Levi’s lips pull into an almost-smile as he witnesses his comment making Eren’s ears even redder.

Eren blows out the air from his cheeks in relief. “So I’m okay?”

“Ugh,” Levi leans away as much as he can. “Your breath smells like caramel.”

Eren licks his lips, still tasting some sweetness there from his earlier snack. “You really don’t like caramel, huh,” he muses.

“I’ve never liked sweets, you know that.”

“Then why do you carry them around, even in your personal backpack?” Eren leans closer, caught by a scent. “And why do _you_ smell like caramel?”

Levi locks eyes with Eren and opens his mouth, but before he can come up with an excuse, Eren is leaning toward him and blowing caramel-scented air at his face.

“Eren, please,” Levi tries to push Eren’s face away, but Eren doesn’t give up, grabbing Levi’s hands with his own and flexing his sleeveless arms. Levi tries not to stare.

“You’ve started liking caramel because of me,” Eren smiles evilly, enjoying Levi’s conflicted expression. “Admit it!”

“Ugh, gross-”

“Or is it because it reminds you of me?”

“Reminds me of- No. No, no, no, of course not. No.”

Eren raises his eyebrows. “Wow, that didn't sound suspicious at all.”

“Suspicious?” Levi automatically associates this word with kidnappers and candy, and realizes with dismay that it fits.

“If you don't tell me the truth I’ll make you taste caramel,” Eren says, and then sticks his tongue out.

“Fine, alright!” Levi gasps, grabbing back at Eren’s hands and holding them. “It’s for you, it reminds me of you, now stop-”

“ _Ahem_.”

Eren and Levi look up, shocked and horrified to find themselves still in the middle of a watchful crowd.

Seeing that only those closest to them are showing various signs of overhearing, Levi quickly grabs Eren’s head and says with a completely straight face, “I think he might have a concussion.”

“Well,” Coach Smith frowns at Eren in disapproval, having heard the whole thing. “This explains why you get injured so often.”

Over by the fence, Mikasa is on her hands and knees, thanking every god she can think of that Eren’s parents couldn’t come today.

*** *** ***

Levi clears Eren of any potential injuries, and once everyone’s settled down and re-warmed-up, the vaulting continues where it left off- on Eren’s second attempt at 13’6”.

“I loved this pole,” Eren sighs sadly, holding the two striped pieces out in front of him.

“It was pretty awesome though,” Ymir eyes the broken pole enviously. “It sounded like a gun, and people thought you were dead.”

“The good news is the _reason_ you messed up your vault,” Coach Smith tells Eren, handing him the plain white pole they’re borrowing from another team. “I’ve never seen you run that fast. And a faster run means a different step, so your vaulting leg pushed off too close to the pit. I want you to keep that speed, go up two handholds on your pole and back a shoe from your mark.”

“Really?” Eren asks enthusiastically. It’s been over a month since he last raised his handhold.

“Only if you promise to run as fast as you did last time,” Coach Smith looks Eren dead in the eye. “That’s the only way this will work. Got it?”

Eren thinks of the reason he had run faster, and he glances at Levi before nodding confidently. “Got it. Definitely.”

“And you’re sure he’s fine to do this?” Coach Smith asks Levi one more time, clearly still worried.

Levi looks up from where he’s packing his medical supplies back into his backpack. “He’s fine as far as I can tell. There’s a reason for those helmets, you know.”

Eren straps his helmet on and pops a caramel in his mouth when Coach Smith isn’t looking. The official blows the whistle to restart the competition.

“Wish me luck!” Eren says excitedly, reaching up to meet Ymir’s high-five as he passes her.

Levi can’t help but stare at Eren’s retreating back muscles through his tight uniform.

Eren, of course, is flexing a little more than is necessary as he grips the borrowed pole, finding his new handhold. He lines up one shoe behind his previous mark, feeling his spikes grip the runway.

In the last moment before he runs, Eren thinks back on the conversation he had with Levi this morning. So what if Eren doesn’t know exactly what he wants to do with his life? He doesn’t have to know every little detail of his future to be happy.

Even though his life is about to change, Eren has a few things he's going to make sure stay the same:

Levi, pole vaulting, and caramels.

Eren tucks the caramel into his cheek and takes a deep breath, jittery with anticipation- for the jump, as well as for his future. He flexes one last time, feeling Levi’s gaze burning into him.

“Less seduction, more vaulting!” Connie shouts somewhere in the crowd.

The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. I seriously had a blast with this- it was way too much fun, especially since you guys are awesome and made it an absolutely wonderful experience with all your comments and kudos! AHHH I'm sad this is over, but thanks again for everything <3


End file.
